Despair
by RandomDream
Summary: It was their only hope. She was their only hope. A story of desperation through time and lies. Time. Past. Marauders. Lucius. Remus. Sirius. James. Hermione. AU since DH.
1. Zero

I have been toying around this idea for a while, seeing as many people have already done it. This is my first multi-chapter Harry Potter fic, and I hope you enjoy it. Some chapters (until chapter 4 actually) are already done. Enjoy!

There will be slight spoilers, books 1 to 7, and this isn't mine, only the plot.

* * *

Time will be changed, and I shall defy its laws.

**D E F I A N C E **

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Hermione Granger got up from her place in the ground, shook of some dust and tried to walk off to some direction or another. She yelped in pain as soon she stood, however, and a bright red gash appeared on her left leg.

Limping her way to what seemed like a town, she can't help but think of the situation that she's in now. A flood of memories were coming to her, threatening her to stop and rest because of the pain- though she knew she shouldn't, too many things were at stake, and besides, she has been through much worse. Closing her eyes, she painfully recollected her memories from a time that seemed so long ago.

"_Excuse me, Ms. Granger, but Professor Dumbledore would like to talk to you."_

_The voice of Deputy Headmistress startled the student aforementioned. Taking a calming breath, she turned to her Professor and asked, "What for Professor?"_

"_I'm sorry, but Albus –I mean the headmaster did not specify. But you'd better hurry up, Dumbledore is a busy man," Professor McGonagall said, adding "Oh, and he likes Cockroach Clusters."_

"_Oh. Well, I guess I should go," gathering her things and quickly nodding to Harry and Ron, she left the Great Hall and proceeded to where she knew the Headmaster's office was._

_In all honesty, she has never been up much in this room before, the only chance being when she was made prefect last year. Now, however, is an entirely different experience for her –seeing as the visit was more personal than formal._

_She gave the password, and the gargoyles leapt out of the way to grant her access. Stepping up to the escalating stairs, she began to formulate possible reasons of her being here._

_Because of studies, perhaps? –no, it wouldn't be, seeing as she has done more than excellent these past few years. Wait –did something happen in her world? Something the Headmaster didn't want to let her know via letters? Are her parents alright?_

_Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door –though she was fairly certain that he knew that she was on the other side of the room anyways._

"_Nice to see you could make it, Ms. Granger. Please, be seated," the gray haired man said, indicating the seat in front of his mahogany desk, "and would you interest in tea? We have quite a lengthy talk… Lemon Drop…?"_

_Walking to the chair and sitting down, Hermione prepared herself for a conversation with the man with the ever twinkling eyes…_

That, as harmless as the start was, was the beginning of a tumultuous affair, an affair concerning her, Harry, and the good of mankind.

That was one of the only few conversations she ever had with the now deceased Headmaster. She was charged with a heavy responsibility to watch over Harry, and protect him as she was able, as if she wasn't doing that already. Hermione knew where credit was due, and she knows that she is one of the most powerful wizards of her age, but really! Asking her, of all people, when there were a thousand different people in Hogwarts more capable than she, and more adept Order members, was just plain unusual.

She was fairly certain that while she was advanced for her age, she was no match for the powers of darker people than her. But then again, Professor Dumbledore must have known what he was doing, and so she agreed to promise her aid to Harry's protection and to do all it takes to help them win, albeit reluctantly.

Unfortunately, looking out for Harry, and delving more into the hunt for those blasted Hocruxes, wasn't enough to save him…

"_No!"_

"_NO!"_

"_NO! Please… no!"_

_Simultaneous cries of defiance was heard, as Hagrid, followed by Death Eaters, carried a dead, and no longer breathing Harry._

_There last hope in this war, gone._

_She placed too much hope, then, on their achievement in killing all hocruxes, aside from Nagini. It was too much –she even speculated that the Deathly Hallows could help them._

_They didn't. It was a blur now; there was silence, then roars –repeating in a cycle. Voldemort was glorifying in his attained victory and everyone stood shock still at his words. They lost. His laugh, his high, cruel and menacing laugh, finally shook the finality of their defeat._

_They lost. And there was nothing they could do about it._

_Wait –nothing? It was impossible… fate … they wouldn't, couldn't design a world where the evil triumphs and wins over good. It was just not right._

_Gathering everything she has ever known in her life, she decided that she'll still fight. As long as the sun rises, there is something worth fighting for…_

That was when she made the most drastic decision she has ever made in her life. She decided that if the fates won't grant good victory in this universe, then she will shape the universe again. She will form history herself, make a new world, a better one –for her, for Harry… for muggle and wizarding world alike.

_A battle escaped again, though this time, it was like manslaughter. The crumbling resistance –weak in their shock on Harry's death- tried bravely to fight, but it was futile. Death Eaters were moving left and right, shooting curses and hexes –for more terrible than the Unforgivable Curses –and laughing their hearts out in every death they make. _

_In the haze and confusion of war, she managed to free herself from the battlefield once known as Hogwarts –escaping the eyes of Voldemort himself._

_She had already made up her mind on her decision, and running to the borderline of Hogwarts, she looked back to her second home, to her second family, to her former life… and apparated away –to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. _

_She had an extensive knowledge of the ancient spells, both dark and light. Even before the hunt for the pieces of his soul, she has already used the books provided for her by Dumbledore. She has already known of all possible spells relating to her decision, and when she found it again in one of the tomes she brought to the house of Black, she prepared to cast the complex spell on her. _

_The spell was longer than the ones now, more complex, more confusing and decidedly more power consuming. But she had to do this- had to go back to the time before Riddle, before this mucked up mess, and change it._

'_Vicis ero abeo quod ego vadu…'_

_With a painful jerk and an indescribable sensation, the only occupants left in the Most Noble House of Black were the books and Witherwings. _

Inhaling a deep breath and taking courage from her memories, Hermione made her way down to the village, which to her delight was a wizarding one.

It was only a couple of meters away, and fate, strangely enough, was playing in her hands since it was not so much occupied. The lesser to see her, the better, seeing as how she was wearing attire –bloodied and bruised, with uncountable scratches and tears in her robes –entirely inappropriate for a time five decades from hers.

Finally, she made it into the road, and was surprised by a sudden shout.

"What the hell happened to you?!?" A thoroughly irate female voice was shouting at her.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, she fainted in exhaustion and fatigue.

If she was able to make a conscious thought before fainting, she would have remembered that people on the 50s did not talk in such manner.

* * *

I'm very sorry if I don't get to reply to reviews, though I really do appreciate them. In all honesty, I am already adding an extra hour in the clock just so I can let my ideas and imagination out and let you guys have free entertainment.

Thank you though, for the reviews. And please read my other HP fics (oneshots, though), The Secret, The Smile of His Heroine, and In The Library -all in my profile, of course.

I hope that was good enough, or at least near to your standards.


	2. One

Enjoy! It's not mine, alright?

Still Hermione-centric, this chapter

* * *

There's a thin line between love and hate. And an even thinner line between right and wrong.

After all, aren't all our actions justified in our eyes?

**D E C E P T I O N **

She woke up with a massive head ache and blurry eyes. She did not speak yet, knowing that silence was one of the best weapons, and looked around her. To her surprise, and chagrin for not noticing earlier, she was lying in a bed. Sitting up, and rubbing her eyes, a bad habit she picked up, she scrutinized the room she was placed in.

She was in a somewhat plain room; the style looked a lot like the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron. There were moving posters in the air, one of the Tornadoes, and the other one of a lone Quidditch player. There were strewn papers and odd sorts of junk in the floor, and a glass of water and a biscuit on the bedside table on her right.

Hermione deduced that this place must be owned by someone who loved Quidditch, and didn't know of the current style of this era. Hermione was always interested in history, and in muggle world history, the 1950s were a time of confusion (with the aftermath of war) and the design of places was certainly more… organized and _older _than this.

This place, however, looked like it was just from an outdated magazine, or a vintage furniture shop- with the theme as 70s, judging from the bell bottoms and other clothing items from that decade.

She sighed, and turned to her left until a sharp zing was felt. Quickly remembering her leg, she righted her position. She already realized that her wand wasn't in reach, and she can't do anything- she was in an unknown territory after all.

Her thoughts continued to drift away before it was shocked by a sharp rapping at the door.

"Are you awake? I heard the bed creak…," a voice of a woman said. It was a bit funny for Hermione, seeing as that voice alone could wake a sleeping man.

Without waiting for a reply, or she really wasn't about to do one, the door opened and in entered a girl in her mid-30s. She was a bit plump, wore a classic apron and a flowy shirt with trousers. Her dark black hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she surveyed the room with surprisingly light eyes before it laid on Hermione.

"Oh! So you're up, then. You gave me quite a surprise actually, walking alone on the street, in battered clothes and alone, no less! Don't you know that it's not safe to be around alone anymore?" Making a tsking sound, she made her way to the bed and helped Hermione up and gave her a potion.

Hermione stared warily at the potion, knowing that it wasn't safe to just take it. But she was already at the dark-haired woman's mercy, so she took it and was instantly relieved of her headache.

"Now," her voice split through the air again, "would you mind explaining to me who you are, why you were out alone, and looked like bloody Death Eaters were after you?"

At that, Hermione spit out the potion she was still drinking. Not caring about the woman's surprised reaction, she began thinking quickly. Death Eaters? Wasn't she supposed to be at the decline of Grindewald's power? What the heck..?

Quickly regaining her composure, and trying not to fidget at the unnerving suspicious eyes of the woman before her, she answered the questions slowly.

"My name is Hermione… Hermione Wood," Inside, she was grimacing at the sudden choice name. 'Wood', though it was the former Quidditch Captain's father's muggle name, was still a common name, and she shouldn't have risked that.

"Wood? Are you related to Ephraim Wood? Oh I am truly sorry for his death…," she was starting to ramble, and Hermione, though grateful for the escape from the interrogation, wanted to know more about her host.

"Ephraim Wood?" Rolling the name in her tongue, she was quickly debating whether she would pretend to be related or not and quickly chosen the latter, seeing as she didn't want to drag others' lives into this. "I don't think I know him. Probably no relation, but I am sorry for his death."

The woman looked surprise for a moment, as if forgetting that she had a visitor. Gathering her thoughts, she shook her head and let out a small laugh, "Well, if I'm not rude I don't know what to call myself! My name is Alicia Fenwick, I work at a sweet shop downstairs, and I was on my way back here when I saw you yesterday afternoon. You were quite in a state, and you even fainted after I called you," letting out a breath, she continued, "Well anyways, I took and dressed you in for a while, this is my brother's old room by the way- he's moved out, though I don't know that much on healing spells I'm afraid. Mind telling me how you got those?"

Luckily for Hermione, she already thought of a somewhat plausible explanation for her 'state' while she was talking. "That? I'm terribly sorry if I surprised you and all. Just the shock of it," she shrugged disinterestedly, "This scar? Oh, that's been there for a long time. I'm really interested in trying out new stuff, and well, this happened. And how I got here… I was working on an experiment actually, in Elms Wood Ville, and I apparated near my set-up- must have bumped on it when I went away, so I ended up here. Where is here, by the way?"

"What? Well, isn't that exciting? You're in Ken Glade actually. Hmm," Alicia looked like she was mulling over something, and then quickly concluded, "You could stay here then, until you're all better."

I'll go get something to eat, shall I? It's almost noon. I'll call you when food's ready." Standing up, Alicia walked to the door and then faltered a bit.

"Your wand and clutch bag are in the second drawer, by the way."

* * *

Hermione was still in a state of shock. Right after Alicia left, she rolled to the drawer in her right and got her things. Muttering a healing spell she learned from Madame Pomfrey herself, she finally walked around the room, looking for some clues as to when she exactly was.

Her first impression of Alicia would have been a dull woman of 34. Though her guess was slightly correct, she found that Alicia was defining herself as talkative, a bit self-centred and a tad bit unknowledgeable- seeing as she believed that there was an Elms Wood Ville- of basic things in the course of their almost one-sided conversation. And while she may not be best friend material, Hermione was happy enough that she found someone who was kind enough to take her in.

Her eyes caught something in the mess that was Alicia's brother's room. Digging her way into the pile of rubbish, she picked it up. It looked like a copy of the Sunday Prophet, recent if she wasn't mistaken. Hoping that she somehow landed in an eccentric 50s woman's home, she dared a peek at the page.

What she saw made her tremble.

_1977._

No shit.

* * *

Walking down the slightly rickety wooden stairs, she made her way to where she smelled the food. Though still shaken from her findings, of being on 1977, on the _Marauders' _time, instead of Tom Riddle's golden years, she managed to manoeuvre herself around as soon as she heard Alicia calling for late lunch.

"Good…good. So, sit down. Come on, let's eat," she invited. Complying with her requests, Hermione felt it was a bit odd that someone would be so open to her, since, as she said, it was dark times. Casting that thought away from her mind, she began to eat the food in front of her.

Hermione knew she had no worries if Alicia was trustworthy or not. She was perceptive in this kind of things, not to mention quite adept at legilimens, and she wasn't planning to stay long anyways.

Halfway through the meal, Hermione finally spoke on her decision to leave, "Alicia? As much as I enjoyed your hospitality, it wouldn't be fair if I stay here any longer. I trespassed long enough. I'd like to apparate home as soon as possible."

Alicia hesitated, because as much as she felt it was lonely in Ken Glade, Hermione's presence would be a bit taxing on her, "Would you really want to? I mean, you leg's not full healed!"

"My leg? I healed it a moment ago, it occurs frequently, so I already know the basic spells on it."

"Well, then… if you're sure," Getting up, she vanished the dishes, "you can keep those clothes if you want. They belong to my brother's girlfriend; I doubt that they'd miss it."

Escorting her to the front door, she turned to her, "Well, you could write to me if you need anything, alright?"

"Thank you so much, Alicia! You don't even know me, and you fed me. Thanks a lot. I just wish there would be a lot more people like you in this world.

"Oh! Well, I know you now, don't I? Don't worry; the world can't possibly get any worse. Goodbye and stay safe!"

And with a pop, Hermione Wood formerly Granger was gone- gone from Ken Glade, from the life of one Miss Alicia Fenwick.

* * *

Landing suavely in Diagon Alley, she made her way to one of the narrower side streets in the avenue. Strangely enough, Diagon Alley was a far cry from the street she landed in 'Ken Glade'. It was as lively as she remembered it, with bustling people, carts and conversation all about. Looking at the scene before her, she decided that she best find out what her next course of action would be. She had to remember her mission of course, and what better way than to stay at Hogwarts? She dared not tell anyone, even Dumbledore of this mission- because he might stop her, and so it would be hard to get help or even worse, send her to Mungo's or Azkaban for what she knows.

From what she picked up from Fenwick's and from what she read before, Voldemort was still at large in these years. It would be hard to find things to support her claim of being in this time, and of finding a job in or near Hogwarts. She highly doubted that everyone was as trustworthy as Alicia.

Walking inside a significantly smaller Flourish and Blotts, she got a book and sat down, trying to think things over.

Being in a place where you knew no one, quite similarly to her first day in the wizarding world, was disconcerting. It was like you were all alone, and there was an aura of loneliness wherever you go. However, she was determined to do her mission and create a better world and what is being alone compared to the happiness of those she loved? There were memories threatening to leave the caged suppression she has placed them in, threatening to tear her up all over again. _Mum, Da, Harry, Ginny, Tonks, Remus, Rona- _stop… She can't cry here, she just can't. She was here to finish something- a war that hasn't started yet in 20 or so years, and Merlin, she was going to do it.

But it was all too much. She wished that she never made that promise, that promise to finish and do everything in her power to make the light side win. If she hadn't, she would be in heaven now, with them. It's selfish, true- but she's only 18! Brightest and most powerful witch of her age or not, she just reached maturity… she wasn't supposed to be the one in here. Sighing, she picked her book and returned it to her shelf on her way out.

It was then, on the way down the street, did a brilliant idea occur to her. It was perfect, really. That part of Wizarding London was a place no one she would care to know would come, and no one would obviously recognize her there. There were shady dealings, that was true, and unreliable transactions, but what she needs now are records of "Hermione Wood" and what better place than this?

Turning to her right, she moved to reach her destination.

Knockturn Alley.

* * *

She never did like this place. She has only been here once with someone else, and twice on her own. The first time would be when they had to follow Malfoy to Knockturn Alley, and to say the least, she would really want to forget that embarrassing experience. The following times, however, she has grown a lot more deceitful and tactful. There was not much purpose in her going there, only because she wanted to get over her mistake and satiate curiosity. Suffice it to say, Hermione managed to go through much of the stores there, with a hood covering her face, and safely back to Diagon Alley in the span of ten hours.

If it was already here in this time, she knew of a perfect place where you could find someone quite skilled in forgery and knew how to get all sorts of documents and artefacts- since it was very hard to copy Ministry documents, especially those sealed with magic. His name was Mr. Wright. His name was nothing like his personality in the future-present. He was a greying old man then, yet still capable of writing different sorts of things. He, like other store and pub owners in Knockturn Alley, was oily in manner and transparently fake. But no matter, Hermione knew for a fact that he produced quality, and she desperately needed those to get into Hogwarts.

It was just her luck that it was already there. Pulling her hood up and at the same time entering the shop, with the bell tinkling innocently, she surveyed the inside. The dark and dim-lighted room was almost empty, save for a random chair and the counter in the middle. There was a door in the back of it, presumably leading to the storage and workspace.

"Hello, ma'am, Wright at your service," a young man, at his mid-twenties said with a charming voice, bowing slightly after he went out from the door.

"Good," she said in a cold, clear and crisp voice- giving the impression of a high, upstanding, no-nonsense witch, as she walked sharply toward the counter. "I have never been here myself, but my contacts told me how reliably your works turn out to be."

The raven-haired man looked at the woman subtly- though not subtle enough for Hermione- and tried to see who this obviously powerful patron was. "I am glad my works please your contacts, then. Is there anything in particular that I could help you with?" He inquired with an accommodating smile.

"Hermione Wood. Graduation Papers, from home-school and approved by the ministry, make it authentic enough to pass for the keenest eyes. Do me a favour and add my birthdate, 19th of September 1958, completed studies on 1975. I need top marks. Understand?"

"Precisely and to the point. We can assu-"

"How much?"

"Oh. From what you are asking, at least 10 Galleons," answered a slightly, though not perceptible, irate Wright.

Reaching for her magically enlarged-in the inside, bag; she took out ten galleons, or maybe more. She truly was lucky that Harry and Ron both helped in their finances in the Hocrux Hunt. Throwing it into the counter, she turned with dramatically billowing robes, only pausing to say, "I expect it by nightfall. Good Day," before she left.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Hermione Wood made her way back into Diagon Alley.

* * *

She had not much to do in waiting for nightfall to come, seeing as how she had not a job, nor a place to stay. Instead, she opted to sit in one of the tables at Leaky Cauldron, bought an almost untouched drink, and proceeded to think about what she was planning to do in this timeline.

Her original plan was to lead the young Tom Riddle- before or after his Hogwarts years, to light. She planned to achieve this by some sort of love and care while at Fenwick's but was discarded by the fact that she's in a different era. The spell she made, while complex, was not exactly exact in what destination or time to go to. The requirements of the spell were clearness of speech and diction, a clear goal and that's it. Hermione's goal was to be able to change the present by going to the past, and sadly, she failed to be more specific in her frenzy stated mind. Instead of simply hoping to get into the time of Tom Riddle's younger years, she was sent by time to a place where huge things are happening, and have already happened.

She knew of the mechanics of the spell. The moment she arrived in the time she desired, she would not be able to go back to her original timeline, and may only go further back, or farther forward. It meant that she was stuck here forever, and there probably would never even be a Hermione Granger- after all, there is the Butterfly Effect, or no Golden Trio. As much as she wants safety and security for the wizarding world, there is still a part of her that wants to turn her back and not help, so that the adventures and friendships that Hermione Granger has made would still happen. But what's done is done. She only hopes that once this is over, she could do a memory swipe and erase everything in her past life and delude herself into thinking that she truly does belong here, or at least put her unwanted memories in a pensieve.

So what to do now? There were a lot of options available to her, though there are only two that are most probable and practical. She could work in Hogsmeade, as the Marauders visit there frequently and maybe catch the attention of Albus Dumbledore and join the Order. The only bad streak in that are the suspicious remarks that would be made- Why would a top graduate work in Hogsmeade? It might even remind Albus of Riddle in Borgin & Burke's, and she wouldn't want that. The second option would be to enter Hogwarts as teacher, apprentice or researcher. The first might happen, since it was only August, a good three weeks into the school, and she would love to apprentice for Transfiguration Mastery or Arithmancy or Potions, and she could also try as researcher, if the former two aren't available. All would give her excellent access to the Marauders, Lily Evans, Frank Longbottom, Alice Prewett, and Severus Snape.

With a resolved mind (well, not exactly, seeing as she only narrowed down her choices), she started to make her way down to Knockturn Alley once more.

* * *

It was funny, really, that now that she was on her way to the Post Office, she didn't know what to do anymore. She knows what she wants to achieve, but not how to get it. She's only been here for a day and 2 nights, and she can't help but feel out of place in this world.

She successfully went to her cold persona late night, and found her papers already done. She rented a suite in the Leaky Cauldron soon after and slept almost peacefully. Now she knows what Harry must feel, being plagued by nightmare every night, of times you'd rather forget. It was always replaying in her mind, _her first unforgivable against Antonin Dolohov, the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Harry's dead body… his cold cruel laugh, Ron falling… Neville, Luna- _and then she always woke up. There were often images in her mind that weren't noticed before, something her consciousness picked up when she was busy. She was up and about early the next morning, ready to send a letter to the Deputy Headmistress for a meeting with Dumbledore she was hoping to have later that night.

Sighing, she straightened her back and faced the world. She was going to do this.

She had no other choice.

* * *

It's as if I'm really not a fan of dialog :)

There was no mention of Oliver Wood being a muggleborn or not. I just assumed that he grew up in a wizarding environment as he was accustomed to Quidditch and did not know what basketball was. Him being half-blood just helped my story.

Reviews, please! Thanks.


	3. Two

Please refer to earlier disclaimer. 'Diadal', I think, is Hungarian for victory.

* * *

It is ambition and determination that drives us to victory.

**D I A D A L **

All teachers in Hogwarts were always invited (though they weren't truly given a choice) to stay at school two weeks before classes, to prepare curriculum and such. Minerva McGonagall, being Deputy Headmistress, had the extreme [dis]pleasure of being asked to come to school three weeks before the first of September. Summers at this school, no matter how interesting the architecture and magic of it is, is still rather boring. There was not much hustle and bustle because there were no students, and even Peeves along with the other ghosts 'sleep' in this time of the year. Even the paintings, finding nothing to gossip about, were decidedly quiet, only having loud nights occasionally.

Minerva was somewhat dreading and excited for the coming of this new school year. She knows that it isn't proper to show too much attention on a choice group of students, but she does, and that is to the Marauders. Sighing heavily, she made it down into the kitchens to eat her own quiet breakfast. The Marauders were her main reason why she was both dreading and excited for this new year. Dreading another year of reprimanding, extra detentions, deductions from her own house, and she admittedly would miss them when they would graduate this year. She was excited, oddly enough, for roughly the same reasons. It was always so much lively with the Marauders here; they gave fun and laughter to the students. And though she didn't quite approved to where they were applying what they've learned, even a blind man can't say that they're not brilliant. If only they used their energy for studies, not that they were low in academics- contrary, they were actually one of the models of the school, _academic-wise. _

"What can Tinky do for Miss Minnie?" A squeaking voice said, startling her out of her musings.

Grimacing slightly at the given name, she shook her head and replied, "The usual, thank you."

Seating herself in one of the table sets in the kitchens, she braced herself for another monotonous day. A plate of bacon, ham and bread were set in front of her, along with other foods. Sighing, she turned to the expectant house-elf and said, "Thank you Tinky that is all." With a blink of an eye, the house-elf disappeared, off to prepare food for invisible students and to clean even more invisible dirt.

A slight change in routine has been made, however, as a tawny owl swooped down from what she assumes to be ventilation. _The things owls do._ Taking the letter from the owl, and feeding it scraps of food, she turned to the envelope.

To:

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Of

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

From:

Wood, Hermione Jane

Minerva has contacts outside of her profession, of course, but this Hermione Wood is someone she has never heard of before. Warily, she checked the envelope for jinxes and promptly opened it.

It read:

_To Minerva McGonagall,_

_My apologies if this letter has caused any inconvenience. I am Hermione Wood, as mentioned, and I am a home-school graduate since two years ago, approved and sanctioned by the ministry. Hogwarts has appealed to me to be one of the most interesting places in Great Britain and a wonderful place to experience new things. If it is no trouble, I would like to appeal for a position at your school. I would gladly enrol an apprenticeship under you, as a Transfiguration Master, or under the current Potions or Arithmancy professor. If not, I am very versatile and am quite able to be an assistant in almost every subject, aside from Divination. The library in Hogwarts has been said to be enormous, and I would accept a job as an assistant there if given the chance. _

_Not to sound bold, but may I request a meeting tonight? I can guarantee that I would be at par with your standard. _

_I truly want to have a share of the Hogwarts life. Thank you._

_Yours truly, _

_Hermione Wood._

Rereading the letter once more, Minerva was quite baffled. She has never known that Hogwarts may accept aspiring apprentices. Though she was quite flattered at this Wood's desire to apprentice under her, she knew she had to have this through the headmaster first. Keeping the letter, and resuming her eating, Minerva knows that these remaining days might not be so boring after all.

* * *

It was almost noon when Minerva remembered the letter given to her this morning. How she forgot it, she can't tell, but she did, and now she was rushing her way to the headmaster's office, hoping to catch him. Albus always seemed to leave for long periods at her opinion. She knows that it may deal with the rising war, but she likes to think he might just be visiting Aberforth instead.

"Fizzing Whizbees," and the gargoyles made way for her. Stepping onto the platform, she climbed the stairs and waited for a moment before finally knocking the knock at the door.

"Come in," the voice of Albus Dumbledore said. Minerva went inside, finding herself relieved that he was here, not gallivanting off somewhere else.

"What may I help you with?" the headmaster inquired.

"I seem to have received a letter earlier this morning, actually," Minerva replied, "it was a most unusual event."

"Really?" he let out an amused chuckle, "and what makes you say that?"

"Oh, well, the addresser wrote that she wished for some sort of position here at Hogwarts," she continued hesitantly, "I believe she is qualified, and she has graduated two years ago with approval by the ministry. Her name is Hermione Wood, and she wishes for a meeting tonight. Perchance, you would want to come with?"

"Well, isn't that coincidental?" his eyes were truly sparkling know, clearly pleased with the turn of events, "the professor I have booked for to be this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts backed out quite suddenly. Of course, I was faced with a dark dilemma," his face turning more sombre as he continued, "we are in dark times, and we need a professor who could teach the students proper defence.

"I would like to meet her, naturally! If she is as adept as her letter has said, I might take her in and offer her a job as DADA professor," he said, his cheerful disposition coming back again.

"Then I would write to her? Excellent, then," rising up from her seat, Minerva took leave of Albus and made her way to make a reply at the owlery.

* * *

She was finally walking to the gates of Hogwarts after waiting for a whole afternoon. The reply was quite short, simply stating for them to meet at the gates, and that the headmaster would be joining them at the meeting. She had no problem with that, and soon she was getting ready to find a position that would let her in closer to her goal.

She spent her whole afternoon trying to change herself-not the appearance, though she was wearing a princess line purple dress with a robe on top of it, for changing it just wouldn't be right, so she chose to change some part of her Hermione-Granger-Like attitude. She was Hermione Wood now, and no longer muggle born. She was pureblood, daughter of English travelling business people, at least that's what her documents said. She knew it would take time to lose the grim and haunted flickers in her eyes, but she would try for today. At the very least make a good impression on both of them, though she knows her letter already did.

Her thoughts were stopped when the gates, which surprisingly were already in front of her, were opened. There was Minerva.

Taking deep though silent breaths, Hermione smiled and introduced herself formally.

"Good evening! I'm Hermione Wood, you must be Minerva?" she said rather forced.

"Yes, yes. Come in then, we have tea and biscuits waiting," the elder woman answered.

This was one of the oddest experiences she has ever had. The Professor she remembered was neat, tidy and had undeniable signs of old age. This 'new' Minerva, on the other hand, looked fresh, younger- she even had fuller, darker hair! There were still a lot of similarities between her and her mentor, but there were still notable differences as well.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. It seems that you were very much eager to enjoy life inside these halls," Minerva's voice cut into her line of thinking.

"Oh! Yes, very. I've heard so many things about it- I even read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione said, sounding every bit as a new and excited comer at Hogwarts.

Minerva began to point out to her different sections of the school, and Hermione, wanting to keep up appearances, kept on nodding and exclaiming random relevant comments at intervals. Finally, they reached the office of the Headmaster.

"And this is the Headmaster's office. Come on," she said, whispering a password and stepping up the stairs.

Taking deep, calming breaths and gulping, she moved inside the room and prepared for her 'Job Interview.'

* * *

Days passed by quickly, and soon, classes would be starting again.

After successfully impressing Albus and Minerva, she was invited to stay over at Hogwarts until the first of September, to which she readily complied. She was quite excited to be teaching DADA, though she felt a tad bit sad that everything still felt wrong to her.

Minerva quickly became her companion in those lonely days at Hogwarts. Though the elder witch was a bit miffed at her at first, it was quickly dissolved and their relationship became more like sisterhood. The other teachers came 5 days after she moved in, and she was quickly introduced. Some of her teachers were here, such as Professor Flitwick, Professor Vector, Professor Sinistra, and sadly, Professor Slughorn. She tried very hard to shake off the man, but he wouldn't budge. Apparently, this walrus-man (and she means that in the nicest way possible) was very much interested in her capabilities. He was also very nosy, another reason why Hermione was so annoyed with him. He kept on pestering and talking and whatnot that she was ready to scream. Hermione was pretty sure that Minerva felt the same way.

There were other teachers who interested her, on the other hand- those that weren't there at her time. There was Edward Quirke, as the Muggle Studies teacher. He was pleasant enough, in Hermione's opinion, though they were yet to have a conversation. Then there was the Herbology professor, Adam Ackerley, who was a man in mid-40s, yet still very much adept in his subject, and was also the head of Hufflepuff. A woman with a pleasant disposition, Elizabeth "Liz" Dorny, was the professor of Care of Magical Creatures. The History of Magic Professor was not introduced (though she was pretty sure it was still Binns) and there was no Divination subject yet, thank Merlin.

It was already 12 o'clock, and if she was right, the students would arrive around six for the Welcoming Feast.

The halls were already decorated, and she sighed wistfully. What would it feel like, to be innocent again? It seemed like a century ago since she was the bucktooth first year, muttering spells under her breath on her first day. It's been too long, so long, that she can't remember when she laughed with Harry and Ron, or gossiped with Ginny, without the constant threat of Voldemort breathing down their backs.

Letting out a sigh once more, she stood erect, ready to face a new beginning.

* * *

Thanks! It's not really much, but I hope it was good enough.

I finally got her into Hogwarts! I'm not sure who she's going to be paired up with, yet. It's a bit slow on the action, but I just want to show the key transitional phases. First classes with seventh years up next!

Reviews, please… Thank you.


	4. Three

Yes, well. 'Saluti' is greetings in Italian. I think.

* * *

Every end signals a new beginning.

**S A L U T I**

"Another year in these beloved Halls! I know that you are all famished from that long train-ride, so I would make my reminders clean and short," the headmaster said, arms open wide as if asking the whole student body to embrace him, "the forbidden forest, once again, is forbidden. Please refer to the list outside Filch's office for the 325 things you are not allowed to bring inside. Since Mr. Montgomery has resigned last year, we have a new DADA professor, Ms. Hermione Wood!"

Albus clapped loud and firmly, while the rest of the hall followed. Blushing at the spotlight, Hermione stood quickly, bowed timidly to the hall, and promptly sat down.

"I hope all of you would make her feel very much welcome. With that being said, oddball and sticks! Dig in!" Laughing softly, the eccentric professor turned around and sat at his seat in the head table. Meanwhile, a conversation was initiated by Edward Quirke, who was on the left of Hermione.

"So, you've already been here for three weeks! How's the 'Hogwarts life' going on for you?" he asked teasingly.

"You mock me!" retorted Hermione, though her smile, which she was trying to suppress, belied her annoyance.

"No, my lady, only wanted to be the gallantly charming prince that I am," he said, fitting perfectly into the role of a cocky prince.

Shaking her head, she replied, "Well, I'm a damsel that isn't in distress. But to answer your question, I have been enjoying my stay _so far._"

"Glad to hear it. Now come on," he said, "there must be something spectacularly wonderful in here that you'd want to comment on, aside from me."

Scoffing at his last statement, she smiled slightly and said, "I guess the…"

* * *

 "What do you think Prongs? That new chick-"

"Teacher," a voice interjected.

"-good or not?" Sirius 'Padfoot' Black, said, completely disregarding the comment of his friend, Remus.

The person in question, however, was busy staring at a red-haired Gryffindor, seated only 5 seats away from them at the long table in the great hall.

"Prongs!"

"Huh, what?" James Potter said, slightly disoriented from staring at Lily Evans.

"I was asking about what you think of the new professor..?" shaking his head, Sirius asked his besotted friend.

Rolling his eyes, he answered, "Oh, I have tons of opinions. It's like I've already been to her class and already talked to he," sarcastically, while his hand was ruffling his already messy hair.

Huffing, Sirius turned to the other two of their infamous group. "Fine, what do you guys think of her?" He asked, taking a bite of the meal in front of him.

Peter Pettigrew, a fourth of the Marauders answered, "I dunfd nuw," swallowing, he continued, "I've never heard of her though, so she mustn't be a Hogwarts graduate.

"Yeah," Remus 'Moony' Lupin agreed, "she seems young too. Maybe 20?"

Grinning, Padfoot only replied, "young. That's right, would be real nice to finally meet her."

James, finally turning on to the conversation, said, "So what we guys doing this year?"

The marauders, as they have dubbed themselves, were the loudest and most famous quartet in school. They were mischievous and charming, witty and silver-tongued. They were a mix of boys who had a passion for pranks, fun and even more fun. Theirs was a tight-knit group, having met and befriended on their first year. They were all of different personalities, but they were still best mates- even with an unintentional werewolf, a black sheep, an arrogant cocky leader, and an insecure follower. Every year, they start of the week with a bang. The perfect targets, of course, would be the 'gits'- the Slytherins, but they usually started the year with something lively and fun for _almost _everyone. They had even more different looks; James with his messy raven-hair and hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the dark-haired Sirius with his mischievous obsidian eyes, the gangly and by far the tallest Lupin who had sand-hair and soft brown eyes and Peter, the shortest, who was somewhat soft with his light blond hair and baby blue eyes.

Groaning good-naturedly, Remus said, "still on pranks? Aren't you the _Head Boy_, James?"

"You just had to rem-"

"Obviously, with Evans as my Head Girl and we're going on patrol every night, just imagine…"

"Prongs!"

"Sorry," he said looking sheepish, "And yes, I _am _Head Boy, exactly the reason why you should be following, prefect."

Rolling his eyes, Remus said, "Oh yes, my highly head boy master," adding under his breath, "No idea what Dumbledore sees, honestly!"

"Hey, I heard that!"

"Come on, guys, we're out of track here," Peter said, cutting the following irrelevant conversation.

"Yeah, we should be planning or something right now," Padfoot agreed, gulping down his Pumpkin juice.

"Fine, I've got an idea…"

Gryffindors around them were starting to feel uncomfortable. The smirks in their faces do not bode well for the Slytherins, for anyone.

* * *

Today was her first class with the seventh year Gryffindors, and just her luck to have it with Slytherins.

Sighing, she got her things and prepared for a new class. This was her second class already, having had the first with third year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. The room was still set, and all according to her taste.

The gothic-style arch windows were opened, yet the light entering was charmed to be dim, giving the class a peaceful and somehow sleepy look. She cast a spell that made the classroom slightly bigger, and arranged the chairs so that they weren't as cramped. She had pictures n the walls, much like Gilderoy Lockhart and Snape had; only these weren't self-portraits or inflictions of dark curses. The picture adorning the walls showed magical creatures, famous dark defenders and Order of Merlin awardees and the like. The class was illuminated by soft candles, and there were odd dark detectors near her desk and at the sides of the classroom. What were most interesting in the décor of the room were the jars near her desk.

There were at least ten jars of different sizes, or more. Each was filled with a different miniature magical or non-magical creature, living in what seemed to be a miniature habitat. There was a centaur, with a bow slung over his back and a writing tablet in his hand, looking upwards to what seemed like night-time-in-a-jar. A wizard and witch were also there, though in separate jars. Both were in what seemed like a study, the former even had a dummy to practice the spells on.

Slowly, students began filing through the door, looking at the redecoration of the Defence Classroom. The first bell had already rung by then, and they took their seats already, with the half farthest from the door and the front to the Slytherins, while the rest were occupied by increasingly noisy Gryffindors.

Severus Snape entered, looking flushed from running, followed after by laughing Marauders just as the bell rang. A certain red-haired Gryffindor was watching them with thin disapproving eyes as they sat down.

As soon as the five were seated, Hermione went inside the room through the passageway leading to her private quarters.

Gaining confidence, she smiled and sat down on her desk and began with the introductions, "So, as you all know, I am your new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. My name is Hermione Jane Wood, and I am looking forward to teaching y'all what you need to know for your upcoming NEWTS and life."

"Aren't you a little too young to be teaching us, Wood? You're hardly older than us!" a dark-faced, sneering Slytherin said.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Bletchley, I am still capable of teaching you. I don't see anyone else here that has graduated, do you?" Raising a brow, she continued, "And as I am your professor, I would advise you to call me accordingly."

The Slytherin, put out by being scolded at, slunk back to his chair and grumbled under his breath. "How old are you anyway, professor?" Melinda Hopkins, a Gryffindor, asked.

"Ah, the question of the century- been asked that question already," laughing, she got out of her seat at the table and stood, "I'm only eighteen, actually. But I am turning 19 this month.

Sirius Black, sharing a look with his fellow marauders, whistled, and said, "You're just as old as some of us, yet you graduated already?"

"_Professor_, Black, Professor."

"No need to call me Professor, Ms. Wood"

Rolling her eyes, and feeling a sense of déjà vu, she replied, "One more, Mr. Black, and you'd be the first to receive point-deductions from me."

The other Gryffindors, though amused, were glaring at Sirius. Sirius, not wanting to be the bane of this hot chick's existence, promptly stopped talking.

"Good," she said, "well, I was home-schooled, and then graduated in accordance to the Ministry's standards. No matter what you say, though, I am two years older than your batch.

"Any more questions? I don't have that much planned today, and since we've got some time, I'll entertain most of your questions," she said, lightly smiling.

A Slytherin, Greengrass, asked, "Where'd you live, and all that?" just as Remus Lupin said, "What are you planning this year?"

Soon enough, a flood of questions started, both personal and informal- ranging from relationship status, hobbies, interests, why she became a teacher and the like.

Raising a hand to quiet them, she said, "You know what, raise you're hand and then I'll answer. I only have two bloody ears you know."

Almost every Gryffindor hand went up, while there were a couple of Slytherins. "Yes, Ms. Prewett?"

"Err, why did you choose to become a teacher?"

"Interesting question, Alice. Actually, I wasn't planning to be a Defence teacher…"

* * *

 "So, what do you guys think?"

James, having actually listened to the discussion, was very much interested in the others' opinion of the new Defence teacher. He was playing with the stitch that he nicked from the storage room again, while Peter was simply looking entertained at his 'moves'. Sirius Black who was currently eyeing a sixth year leggy Ravenclaw (definitely his new conquest) was distracted, and so was Remus, busying himself with reading the transfiguration text for next period.

Remus who finally looked up from his book, said, "I think she's nice," and added, "Though I'm not sure if she's that experienced."

Nodding his head, Sirius-coming back to the conversation- agreed, adding, "But she looks damn nice. I mean- Dumbledore wouldn't hire her if she doesn't know her stuff, would he?"

"I agree with Pads, both statements actually," Prongs said, earning a laugh from his fellow Marauders as they sat down in their seats.

"So, we ready to go later at dinner, then?" Sirius asked, suddenly taking a new direction.

Shaking his head at the abrupt topic change, James said, "Hell yeah!"

Snickering in their hands as McGonagall entered, they thought of the wicked thing they've planned.

Bloody brilliant.

* * *

 To say that she was frustrated is an understatement. Hermione Wood has been sitting at the Head table looking down at the students, very much irritated with the man beside him. Unfortunately, it wasn't Edward or Filius, it was Slughorn- as in I'm-HoraceSlughorn-and-I-only-talk-to-people-who-has-'it' Slughorn. He has been trying to catch her attention for sometime now, no doubt going to inquire about her abilities and connection and then invite her to the Slug Club. Hermione, on the other hand, was far from interested, and had taken it to herself to scrutinizing the students and melting holes in the still empty plate in front of her.

"So, as I was saying Hermione, may I call you Hermione? Well, anyway, I have this-"

BOOM.

A loud explosion was heard coming from the main doors of the Great Hall. Looking up while thanking the heavens from such distraction, she saw the madly grinning faces of red-and-gold Marauders. Fighting a highly inappropriate breakthrough of a laugh, she observed James and Remus casually flicking there wands in a charm.

What happened was, simply put, historical.

Every single house banner has changed to Gryffindor, with red and gold colours and a lion roaring. The food set itself instantly at the table, and even the utensils changed itself to the bold house colours. What was worse, for the people afflicted anyway, was that every robe and tie became Gryffindor's, and everyone found themselves chanting, "GO GRYFFINDOR!" even McGonagall and the reluctant and obviously forced Slytherins.

In the middle of the chaos were the four laughing Marauders, heading their way into their table. In seconds, their housemates made space for them, and they all jumped into the table in synch.

"WHAT'S THE HOUSE THAT GOT IT GOING?" James roared.

"GRYFFINDOR!!!" the rest of the house yelled, pumping their fists in to the air.

"WHAT'S THAT? I CAN'T HERE YOU!" yelled Sirius.

"GRYFFINDOR!!!!!" the students roared, and gradually chanted while laughing at the booster.

"That's right, everyone, just a lovely reminder from your faithful Marauders," said Remus in a loud sonorous voice.

"MR. POTTER, BLACK, LUPIN AND PETTIGREW!! YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!" the irritated voice of the head of Gryffindor house screamed.

"Dig in!" Peter exclaimed, right before they followed the raging headmistress. On the other side of the table, a red haired witch watched at the display in disdain.

The rest of the school, though not amused at being scarlet and gold, followed and ate the night away with fun and laughter.

"What a wonderful display!" an annoying voice exclaimed.

Inwardly groaning (wasn't that enough to have him out of her case?), she replied, "Well, those boys are quite talented, Professor Slughorn."

Happy that he finally caught her attention, he said, "Horace, my dear. We are colleagues after all. Now, I was meaning to speak to you all night, I have a very interesting proposition-

Dreading what was to come, and trying hard to make herself polite and interested, Hermione nodded and smiled.

-I have formed my own little group, and we meet at parties and such to simply talk and meet other people. Would I interest you in coming? There is one in two weeks."

Breathing in a deep breath, and reminding herself that she was Hermione Wood- someone who never has attended one of those parties before, she replied, "Really? I'd be delighted of course."

Grinning somewhat triumphantly, he exclaimed, "Well that is excellent, my dear! You may bring a guest, you know. Do try to tell me before hand who you are going to attend with. Lovely, very lovely indeed…"

At this point, Hermione tuned him out, determined to enjoy her well-earned dinner.

* * *

 Hey :p thanks. Blah. Blah.

Please review. Thanks :) I appreciate it.


	5. Four

Yep. New and more dramatic (sort of) chapter!

Oh, and thank you to those who have reviewed! To **loverofbooks20**, **DRAMIONE4EVA15**, **CookiMonster715**, **WhiteTiger1992** and **Klutz's Library**, thank you for showing interest in this story!

Though I sometimes fear that it's boring. Moving on.

* * *

In her eyes, he looked like a fallen angel- dark and powerful, yet an angel all the same.

**D E M E N T I A**

This is suffocation. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. There –she can breathe again.

It was an impulsive decision to travel to Hogsmeade –one that she now regrets. It was entirely spontaneous and rash, and she really shouldn't have done that for all its worth.

It was a hasty exit that she made. It was a Saturday, so she could go out, and she really did want to –that place, that school was frightening. The place was a house of ghosts; people dead –people too young that she's supposed to teach. She didn't belong there, and just had to breathe freely again. Minerva was surprised; they had arranged tea, but she said nothing about it. Who knew the way of younger people nowadays? Besides, Minerva thought that there might be a friend she must be visiting –in the deputy headmistress' opinion, the girl was simply too lonely.

Hermione wasn't sure why, since this didn't happen back at Diagon Alley, but her mind was now reeling with unwanted memories, and her heart was clenching in sorrow as she backed away from the bustling people in the streets. Her back was quivering in her effort to stay her tears, her face tracked with sweat hidden in the shadows of the secluded alley.

_You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermi…_

Professor Lupin. Remus Lupin now. Still. So different… no scars marring his beautiful face, no eyes burning for acceptance, for love. At this time, he still had the Marauders. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs –it was tearing her to know that he'd be the only one left. And then he'll follow.

_That's what Hermione does. When in doubt, go to the library._

Her whole life was books at some point. It was her oxygen, her air. She was laughed at and mocked at times, but she bore it with her head high. Her priorities were knowledge, but now her aim was to stay alive.

_It's exciting, isn't it- breaking the rules?_

It was still Life then. Now there was only death and destruction in her eyes. No space for fun, for leisure, not even for adolescent rebellion. They grew up. It's now kill, or be killed.

_Vud you like to come to Bvulgaria vith me, Hermy-own-ninny?_

It wasn't difficult then –only gossip and fun, and only a ghost of responsibility, a mocking of the reality. She felt like a princess then –an international quidditch star as Prince Charming, her two not-so-suave knights-in-shining armour, her red haired best friend -the damsel in distress, a blonde ferret as an adversary… it was almost perfect. Things like monsters only existed in fairy tales- but then again, fairy tales happen. At the end of it, there was death. There _was_ Cedric Diggory.

_Occulus reparo! _

A single spell could fix anything- at least that was what she believed. From glasses to injuries… now there are scars that would never go away.

Words and pictures reeled and merged in her head, taking away whatever sanity she has left inch by inch. Her vision was clouding… stars and nausea. And then darkness.

* * *

She regained her consciousness in a comfortable bed that was a far cry from the lodgings she occupied at Hogwarts. It was soft and silky, and there was a distinct smell about it. Before she even made to sit up, her mind jumbled again and forced her into oblivion once more.

…

Her eyes opened only to see straight into gray storming eyes. _Draco Malfoy? _Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight before her. Pale blonde luxurious hair, aristocratic nose, high cheek bones, defined jaw line and those enigmatic eyes- this was a Malfoy, no matter what time.

Another life to touch.

* * *

Human people are often predictable in general. Its human nature to want thing served in a platter; to simply follow yet gain. Lucius Salazar Malfoy was definitely human. At the age of 23, he practically had the whole world in his slender hands. As a Malfoy, he was ridiculously rich with a net worth of millions of galleons. He was the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, and with his father, Abraxas' recent passing, he has come into his inheritance. He had a thousand businesses, both legal and underground, and he had the esteemed positions of being a school governor of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry and being an 'unofficial advisor' to the Ministry.

His features, as comely and fine as they were, belied his darker heart. He was not sadistic nor was he maniacal, but he was certainly ambitious and greedy. Following his father's footsteps as a Death Eater and pledging allegiance to the Dark Lord was a means to his own end. People bowed and made way whenever he passed- especially in the shady areas of the wizarding world. He had yet to marry a suitable wife, though, but he knew it would be easily arranged as soon as he wants to. He knew, deep down, that he will come to his own end, but until then, he will do what Malfoys do best –self-preservation.

…

Caractus Burke replied to the Lord's question. "I'm afraid so."

"Then I have certain articles that I wish to sell. It is imperative, and so I will have elves bringing them in and collecting pay depending on your price periodically." The Malfoy Lord stated in his cold, authoritative voice.

"Understood." The old, white-haired man bowed low.

"Good."

In a dramatic spin, he walked away with ominous billowing dark robes.

People walked and bowed respectively as he passed by in his way back to Diagon Alley. He had other affairs to settle.

…

It was required of him, as school governor, to visit Hogwarts in the most uneventful day as possible to see the daily happenings at the institution. It was his charge to take care of the students' well being after all.

It was unfortunate that even _governors_ can't apparate directly into Hogwarts (though he has a suspicion that the balmy old codger, could in fact, apparate in and out of the school), and so Lucius was forced to apparate into Hogsmeade. He has done this many times before, and though it was time-consuming, it provided an excellent opportunity to mingle and relate with people of this class. Walking in precise, determined steps, he scanned the vicinity with his calculating eyes. It was always the same, though he shouldn't expect anything else by now- same people, same stores. It was mundane for him. Until, that is, he saw a flash of black robes and bushy hair.

His interest was piqued; the woman, as little of her he saw, exuded an aura of power- dark power. Following her into a secluded alley, away from people, he glimpsed her face.

She was no flashing beauty, but the sweat beading in her head, and her eyes wet with unshed tears, gave her an alluring broken quality. It was strange that his feet was firmly rooted in his spot, and in curiosity he watched as she elicited pained moans and groans, murmuring deliriously as she took no notice of his presence.

He was still captivated, as he has never seen her before –and he knows that he would have remembered someone like her. In his preoccupation with his thoughts, he almost missed the woman fainting to the cold, hard ground. With strength and agility that he could not explain, he picked her up and apparated them into his Manor.

* * *

It was Draco Malfoy. Correction –it was _Lucius _Malfoy.

Groaning, she sat up and looked around her, taking in the appearance of her host, of the room. The room was impeccably furnished –so different from the dark, gloomy room that greeted her in her torture before. It still had a dark tone to it, but it was certainly livelier. There were portraits on the walls and there were-

"Are you feeling better, then?" a slightly miffed voice said. She had momentarily forgotten the presence of Malfoy, so she was quite surprised at his voice.

Silently reprimanding herself for being inattentive and not alert, she managed to reply, "Yes, I am," as she continued, she sat up. "Where am I? Err, what happened to me?" She knew the place, and she knew she was recently unconscious for mental strain, but Hermione knew that feigning ignorance and understating herself had benefits.

Surprisingly, the Lord Malfoy smiled and said in a concerned voice, "You are in my home after you had a fainting spell in Hogsmeade, Miss…?" He trailed off, asking for her name.

Placed a bit off guard after his seemingly genuine nature, she tried to force out what seems like a true smile, yet failed miserably. "Oh. Thank you very much. It's Hermione, Hermione Gra-Wood."

Choosing to let the slight stutter slip, he courteously bowed and remarked, "At your service, Miss Wood. I am Lucius Malfoy, lord of this house."

She knew she should have feigned flattery and surprise, but she just couldn't bring herself to it. _She was still so weak. _Sighing, she opted to say something- anything. "Thank you once more, Lord Malfoy," she let out a strained smile. "It was very kind for you to help me. I always do get attacks like these –inherent, you know," she hastily excused.

Stepping a bit farther from the king-sized bed, he said, "Would you like to stay, Miss Wood? You are not well yet, it seems." It was proof that her eyes were about to droop once more. The hesitance and deliberations- Lucius knows that there is something _different _about her. Knowing her better would help him find out exactly why she is that way- so dark, so mysterious… so powerful.

He let out an imperceptible sigh of elation as he watched her think it over. There was a flicker of apprehension in her eyes, followed quickly by a look of acceptance. He wasn't sure of the reason, but he was happy when she lifted her head and slowly nodded.

"I will have an elf call for you. But for now, rest." With a turn he was gone once more.

_Oh bugger… dinner?

* * *

  
_

Dreams. _She had dreams of white masks… dark robes… blonde hair. She saw the lightning struck tower, the intimidating cane of the elder Malfoy, the encounter at Flourish & Blotts… Madame Malkin's, Knockturn Alley, Snape…_

She woke up being roughly shaken. She groaned slightly and laid on her right side. Her eyes opened to a thumping sound.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Master said to wake her up… oh yes. Master said to make her comfortable. Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" _Dobby._

Sitting up quickly, she yawned as to draw attention. She knew from experience that some elves did not like to be treated as an equal, or reacted oddly to it, and Dobby might not yet be the same-sock wearing Dobby of her timer. _Her time. _

A look of pure glee arranged his face and his round, orb-like eyes flew and pinned her with an awed stare. "Ah!!" he cried. "Mistress is awake!" said he, as he bowed so low his irregular nose touched the ground.

Mistress? Though not expecting to be addressed to as the lady of the house, she still managed to ask, "What is it that you are tasked to do?"

"Master calls for dear Mistress to dine with him. Dobby will accompany my lady, if Dobby may, mistress?"

Befuddled at what that question might mean, she nodded in the affirmative. She almost jumped when, after a quick snap from the house elf, her bland robes were transfigured into magnificent dress robes. Smiling bemusedly to herself, she looked at herself in the mirror then allowed Dobby to lead her to the Dining Area.

The halls outside of her chamber room were magnificent as the velvet robes that seemed made for her. There was rich marble adorning the walls and busts and statues of unnamed men. There were portraits and painting with its subjects clustered together, no doubt gossiping on the woman walking.

They went through many twists and turns, and Hermione has no doubt that she would not remember them. Finally, an intricately detailed mahogany door stood imperiously before them. "The dining room, mistress," with that, he opened the doors and promptly disapparated.

What she saw was different from the previous rooms she has glimpsed of. It didn't have the elegance of old money -it had the seductive beauty of the dark. Its sleek furniture and the dark aura in the air, screamed supremacy and hierarchy; the pre-course set on the table was glorious. Turning, she looked subtly around for her host.

The sight that met her, however, was unique, unexpected and unexplainable for her. It took her breath away- standing before her was a regally dressed Lucius Malfoy. The air around him crackled subtly with his power, and his eyes burned with thinly veiled passion, darkness and intelligence. He was a fallen angel in her eyes.

"Would you care to have dinner now, Miss Wood?"

* * *

He dresses to impress. Lucius Malfoy is aged 23 because according to HP Lexicon, he was a sixth year (16 years old, presumably) on 1970.

Love Lots to those who review!!


	6. Five

The next installment, ladies and gentlemen…

I'm sorry if I skipped the conversation and events itself; my muse for that just went away.

Officially disclaimed.

'Morsus' is Latin for pain. I think.

* * *

Unknowingly or not, it all begins with a small, single push.

**D E S I G N **

"Crucio!" A tall, hooded man with pale and greying features snarled at the crumbling man before him. "You are hiding something Lucius, and I do not like secrets."

Another Cruciatus Curse, and then the masked blonde man stood shakily up. "I am n-not hiding anything, My Lord."

"Do not lie to me…," the Dark Lord hissed. "There is a memory you are blocking from me. _Legilimens._"

Lucius Malfoy stumbled and almost screamed at the power of the force threatening to break into his mind. Submitting to his Lord's commands, he released all of his feeble attempts at a barrier from his Master.

_He was handing food to someone, a girl –a woman. The woman had unruly curly hair, and the whitest teeth that he had ever seen. "Thank you Lord Malfoy." The woman, _Hermione_ flashed a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and resumed eating. _

_He was watching her eat. Thoughts came to his mind of how wonderful it would be to have her as his companion- as his. She was beautiful, and powerful in his opinion. _

"_What work do you engage in, Hermione?" He was surprised at his usage of her first name, but he shrugged it off since it felt natural to him. _

_She was startled with him calling her Hermione, but she replied immediately. "Hogwarts recently hired me as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," she flashed a grin, "I'm enjoying it too…"_

_Defence? Beautiful, powerful, has influence and connections –he may have found his match._

…

"_Thank you Lucius," she laughed slightly as she took his offered hand, "I have been thanking you for many a time. But really, I am in your debt for helping me."_

"_It was nothing Hermione." He flashed a small smile of his own. "Anyone would have done it."_

"_And here I thought chivalry was dead." She said in an airy, off-hand voice –her eyes twinkling. "This day was not what I expected when I snuck out from the castle." Her expression slightly sobered when she mentioned the institution. _

"_You could visit anytime. I'll look forward to seeing you in my inspections."_

_They walked a bit farther until they finally came to the intimidating gates of Hogwarts. _

"_This is where I leave you then." With an exaggerated bow that only he could pull off, he took her hand and kissed it before apparating away. _

"Pathetic." The Dark Lord circled the man before him.

"Why would you have chosen to hide this particular memory from me? Perhaps you are infatuated with that twit of a girl?" He laughed a menacing laugh. "You are an ignoramus, Malfoy –to have been attracted to a woman, in less than a day... And here I thought you were the smartest among these dimwits."

He continued in a drawl, "If she is as powerful as you think, she would be an excellent addition to our little _family. _Bring her to me, and make sure of her outlook on this coming war."

"You are dismissed."

* * *

"Was that –Was that Lucius Malfoy?"

_Oh god. _She has never seen Minerva act this way before… like –like a crushing school girl!

Giggling almost madly, Minerva McGonagall –who was _supposed _to be collected and stern in her time, _in all times_, asked, "I knew something was up when you missed _scheduled _tea, but I never thought it would be Lucius Malfoy keeping you busy! And the robes you came in last night! Beautiful!"

Groaning, she squirmed at her seat. They were in the elder witch's classroom, with her seated on one of the student's wooden chairs and the Transfiguration professor fixing some things at the back shelves near the door. She straightened her robes and sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. Hermione should have known that someone would have seen her with Malfoy the night when she returned. She expected students to have seen her, and she also expected them to not comment about it. She ignored the possibility of a professor seeing then interrogating her –which was exactly what happened. As soon as she went for breakfast the following Sunday, she was met with a very inquisitive transfigurations professor. It took all her strength not to cry out in indignation for the malice that Minerva puts in a chance encounter with Malfoy. _Malfoy_ –the bloody git who's the father of the Ferret, the man who's the right hand of Voldemort… there were a hundred reasons why that thought was so _wrong. _

Like the fact that he used to be two decades older than her.

"There was nothing in it, _Minnie." _

"Tell that to someone who would believe you… and stop calling me Minnie." She added as an afterthought. "He was head boy when he passed through Hogwarts, though his _extra curricular _activities are questionable."

Shaking her head, she stood up to exit. "_Minerva, _I had a fainting spell and he _helped _me. Nothing more –nothing less, now get your head out of the gutter."

_Get your head out of the gutter_ _–_never thought she'd say that to her mentor.

* * *

Her mind was wandering again.

He knew, of course, that she wasn't listening as he continued to talk, but that didn't stop him from trying to get her attention. He knew, too, that the DADA classroom was far from the Muggle Studies Room –where he needed to be for fifth period, but he still wanted to escort her to class. He wasn't stupid; he saw the leering looks that the older students threw at Hermione, though he was frustrated at Hermione's obliviousness, or indifference.

In all honesty, he has never heard of Hermione Wood before. He was a half-blood, and well-updated in the happenings of both wizarding and muggle world. Surely he would have heard of her? She was an exceptional witch in his opinion, and beautiful too. She was a good friend, and was always ready to help, in his opinion. But if you'd ask him for one word to describe her, he'd say that she was enigmatic. She was a mystery to him.

There were no records if any Woods had a female branch in this generation, so it was highly unusual for her not to have any wizarding relations though her credentials say otherwise. She told him that she wasn't related to the late Ephraim Wood and the remaining family members, but she was home-schooled. Homeschooled by who? No matter what her records say, it was still suspicious. He knew she was hiding something, and Edward suspects that Albus, Minerva and some others do too, but for now, he'll trust in her and hope that she isn't a death eater in disguise.

"Huh?"

She was thinking about life and death again –crucial things that's wearing her shoulders down. For all it's worth, she has absolutely no idea of why she even accepted Malfoy's dinner offer, why she just didn't apparate at the spot. It would have been so much easier for her. Now she has an intrigued Death Eater (and, indirectly, perhaps an intrigued Dark Lord), and a madly giggling _romantic _Minerva. She hasn't done _anything _at all about her mission –she hasn't even taken (destroyed) a hocrux yet! The fact that she's beginning to feel actually comfortable in this time, that she's a part of this generation, wasn't helping at all. She's becoming more relaxed, more forgetful. Ed has been talking for some time now, and she wasn't paying attention. It was only a wrong step that shook her from her thoughts.

"Oh good. You're back on earth." He flashed a teasing grin.

Almost blushing, she said, "Haha. Very funny. I'm just a bit antsy, that's all. I'm still getting used to this many people you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Speak to the judge. 'nyways, this is where I leave you."

True enough, they were already in the hall outside of the DADA room. Thanking her 'escort', she entered the room to find the room already half-filled.

The class quieted down to soft whispers and murmurs as she flashed a quick smile and sat down on the edge of the table.

Putting on a calm, happy look, she looked up as the bell rang to see four laughing Marauders and a very irritated Snape and Avery in tow.

"Good afternoon, class. Please pass your essays on whatever topic you chose then put away your quills and books and move to the side. We've got a practical lesson today."

The class instantly shot up in excitement at the last sentence. This, to them, was the reason why DADA was one of the best subjects in school- the practical part of it. They quickly stowed away their writing things, stood up, and waited somewhat impatiently for their young professor's instructions.

"Alright. Since the last lesson we tackled was on advanced defence in single combat in theory, this period along with our next meeting would be dedicated on _applying _what you learned, if you actually listened." With a flick of her wand, the chairs and her table disappeared along with the other things, leaving only a wide, empty space in the middle of the classroom.

"Now as I have said, single combat is different from a one-on-one duel. A duel, as you have learned last year, has seconds, and may have rules etc. A duel is planned between both sides, or at least is expected. A single combat, on the other hand, is done in war. It is between the champions of both sides." She motioned the students to come nearer to her. "What I want to do today is for you guys to practice different spells that are usually used in war, aside from the Unforgivables, of course. Then next meeting- I think tomorrow? You lot would be fighting against me. One by one, got it?"

A number of the students were apprehensive of making a fool of themselves in front of the class, including one Peter Pettigrew. Some of them, on the other hand, wore smirks on their faces- such as James Potter, Sirius Black and Snape.

"I need to do a demonstration of a single combat first. Who would like to volunteer?" She looked around, and sighed as the class stepped back.

"Thank you Mr. Lupin, for volunteering." Hermione inwardly smiled, this was going to be good.

"But –I, I didn't-" Remus looked around wildly, trying vainly to get support from his smirking friends. Sighing dejectedly, he moved closer to his professor and glared at his now-seated classmates.

She went closer to him, earning her a nervous look. It took all of her will power not to roll her eyes –boys and their bloody hormones. "This is how it goes," she said in a hushed voice as the other students strained to hear, "I'm going to go easy on you. All you have to do is use the most aggressive spells you could use, and make sure it stays _in _the ward I'm going to make. Alright?" He nodded, and watched her as she circled around him. She muttered an incantation and a bright circular glow appeared some good distance around them, margining them.

"So I have this ward around us in case of stray spells. Please take note of whatever you find interesting. I repeat, this usually happens in war, so the place a single combat is done in is usually noisy, heated and cramped with corpses. We're going to do that somewhere more realistic next time."

Half of the class shuddered at her tactless reference to dead bodies. Their repulsion and fear was soon replaced, however, when their combat started.

She wasn't expecting such a skilled opponent. Remus John Lupin was agile in movement and quick in spells. He would be an excellent auror, if only the Ministry wasn't so biased against werewolves- Werewolf! Sending a body binding curse, which he promptly ducked, she mentally smacked herself for forgetting his _condition_. Her broody musings, though, were quickly banished as another spell was sent her way.

"Densaugeo!" Feeling horridly reminded of her fourth year encounter with Malfoy, where her teeth grew abnormally large, she retaliated with a slightly more aggressive spell.

"Morsusuega!" It was a spell designed to make you _feel _pain, though not create pain itself. Lupin ducked it again, however.

Moving slightly to the right, Remus aimed a hex at his professor. "Rotertagra!" She sighed elatedly as she moved just in time to escape the Bat-Bogey Hex. That would have been an embarrassing experience if she was seen like that by her students.

It was longer than what Hermione expected. They were running for a good five minutes, and they were still going good.

"Avis!" A flock of birds appeared, and quickly assaulted Lupin after a following cry of "Oppugno!"

Remus, no matter how quick his reflexes were, found no time to search his head for vanishing spells before the birds attacked him. It caught him off guard, and the fight officially ended as soon as his professor said the Disarming spell.

"Constant vigilance!" She said with a sad, pensive smile. "Now up you go. We've still got half an hour of practice ahead of us." She helped Lupin up, and led him back to the rest of his classmates. With a quick wave of a wand, the ward around them vanished, and the class began to whisper and murmur with each other again.

"Before I start," she began with a louder, clearer voice, "I give 20 points to Gryffindor. Mr. Lupin, that was one of the best performances I have seen considering you're age. Oh, and another 5 points for lasting long with me." She beamed proudly at him as he blushed profusely at her flattering comments.

"So back to our lesson. Find a partner, preferably of the same gender, then practice."

…

"No, Mr. Black, hexing the hair of your opponent to turn green does _not _impress me," Hermione was pursing her lips as Sirius Black grinned while restraining the laugh threatening to burst out. Remus Lupin now sported green hair and a sulking look with a murderous glare, after all.

"Turn it back, Pads."

"I think you look _great _in green. It definitely suits you, doesn't it Prongs?"

Across the room, Potter was fighting combat with Frank Longbottom. "Whatever you say, Sirius!"

Grinning slightly, the professor moved out of the scene and nearer to James Potter.

The grin quickly faded, however, when Potter aimed a hex at Severus Snape, who was a good distance off. She breathed gratefully when the hex missed its target, but she quickly turned her reprimanding eyes to the disappointed Marauder.

"James Potter! As much as I love _not _taking points, not paying attention to the matter at hand just doesn't cut it. Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, and make sure I don't see that happening again."

The boy's eyes were downcast, and slightly irritated for being scolded at by someone only a couple of months older than him.

Hermione Wood went into the centre of the room, and then called the attention of the still-hexing students.

"Students," she began, "I want you to keep on practicing for next week's combat with me, but no magic in the corridors." She grinned. "We wouldn't want Mrs. Norris in our tails, would we? Class dismissed."

The class filed away slowly, most of them talking excitedly about the hands-on lesson, and the others (the Marauders) sulky about ruined fun.

* * *

So short. And sort of… this is more like a filler, I guess.

Review, please.


	7. Six

Okay. So as I'm writing this, I have already posted the second chapter. But regardless, I feel that you might be confused about the details (Kudos to you for sticking with this story up until now!).

_This fic is compatible with almost all books. The only difference is that Harry did die at the forest encounter with Voldemort (either because he boarded the train at 'King's Cross' or because both the hocrux in him and he died). Hermione, who was some-sort of appointed guardian of Harry who had to step in if he fails, performed a spell that enabled her to travel backwards in time. As you've seen, she landed thirty or so years after her intended era. Hermione Wood nee Granger, according to her 'records', was born on September 19, 1958- making her 18 turning on 19 on the year 1977 (seventh year of the Marauders). She has extensive knowledge of the dark arts and has more abilities, might be equal to Dumbledore, because of her task from Dumbledore. _

_In the canon timeline, she was born on Sept. 19, 1979, making her 18 as these events roll out (as she was 18 on 1997, her 'seventh year' of schooling). _

_Lucius Malfoy was born on 1954 in this story, and is yet to marry. _

_On the timeline: She arrived roughly a month before September. She was invited to come in the school three weeks before term. September 1, 1977 falls on a Thursday (I checked… talk about weird) so her first DADA class with the Gryffs and Slyths was on a Friday. Her fainting spell and that entire thing with Malfoy was on the following Saturday. Chapter Five is set on both Sunday Morning and on Monday. Next DADA lesson is on Wednesday (Sept. 7) and in this Alternate Universe, Tuesday night is a full moon (I don't want to check anymore). So this is only in the second week of school. The Slug Club party would be in 2 weeks, so that would be… on the 16__th__ or something near it. _

_For future reference, Voldemort is 50 years old. He was born on 31 Dec 1926, making him 50 at September 1977. _

Whew. I think I wrote that partially to remind me of what I'm writing again. I tend to forget. Oh, and I decided that there are no Heads dorms. At all.

Reminder: This story is Hermione-centric, though it still focuses on other people. This would reach the whole circle, so it wouldn't focus on one pair interaction only. I want to explore the whole 70s wizarding world. It's almost day-by-day, so progress is slow. And yeah, update is a bit slow to. I like to be done writing 2 chapters ahead whenever I post.

…

Officially disclaimed. Tergus, I think, is Latin for hide.

* * *

There's a thing called Free Will; use it.

**R I S I N G **

"Potter, do you have any plans to come with me on patrol? As in, any time before the next millennium?" An irritated Lily Evans was impatiently tapping her right foot in front of three of the Marauders.

Startled, the messy-haired head of James Potter peeked out from the group huddle that he was having with Black and Pettigrew. Regaining his senses, he replied with a wide grin, "Aww. I'm sorry, Evans. Remus is a bit sick tonight. Gotta keep him company, right?"

Rolling her eyes, and muttering something that sounded like 'boys', she stomped her way out of the common room.

Outside, as she was walking with Alice, a realization struck her. Not to sound arrogant herself, but this is the first round that she and Potter was scheduled to patrol, and he turned it down? Deciding quickly that there was something up, she resolved to think of it later and concentrate on 'Frank's hot-factor' as Alice put it.

The corridors they were walking were haunting to look at, with the pale moonlight barely illuminating the halls. Wait. Moonlight- _Moon. _How could she have been so ignorant? She had known it for three years now; she should have acted more understanding. Remus Lupin, the only Marauder she has ever tolerated (aside from Peter, occasionally), was _transforming _now. Feeling sad for her friend, she turned to Alice and said, "Hey. Thanks for coming with me for patrols. I hate Potter for not coming… head boy, _honestly_," Shaking her head, she continued, "I'm a bit tired. Transfiguration killed me a while ago."

Nodding sympathetically, Alice opined. "I know, right? I'm excited about human transfiguration, but making you demonstrate? And Theresa too." She stifled a yawn. "I guess I'm tired too. Care of Magical Creatures never did do wonders for me." They started walking back up the Gryffindor tower.

"I told you to drop that class, didn't I? You never liked animals, so why you wanted to continue it is beyond me…"

…

Sighing, he raked a hand over his already messy hair and took out the Marauder's Map once more. "Okay, you lot. Moony's already gone down the passage, so we're running a tad bit late. C'mon."

Padfoot and Wormtail followed their friend as they exited the common room under the invisibility cloak. They went down quickly, using the shortcut behind the portrait of the Drunken Thieves and then raced to the ground. The cloak was stowed away, then the Marauders transformed into their Animagus forms.

A rat, grey in colour with a distinguishing long tail, climbed up the trunk of the Whomping Willow and prodded a knot with its paw. The violent movements of the tree stopped, and the magnificent stag and the dark dog took this as an opportunity to slide in through a passageway beneath the tree's big roots.

Inside this _place _was a sight to behold. This was the wildly-talked about Shrieking shack, said to be haunted by ghosts and restless spirits. The villagers were wrong. This run-down place was haunted by another kind, by a werewolf once a month. That werewolf, Remus Lupin 29 days a month, was currently staring at the intruders.

He howled in recognition of his friends, and proceeded to tackle the stag down to the ground. Its glorious light brown fur revelled in the moonlight peeking at the windows, and his playful snarls echoed through Hogsmeade and through the forest. Excited barks interrupted the mock-fight of the wolf and the stag. Sensing mischief, the werewolf jumped through one of the open thresholds and ran into the woods, followed closely by the Animagi.

* * *

Moaning, she slid down the water and let the tensions in her muscles relax. The day had been hectic, and she really wasn't used to this much responsibility, as a teacher, yet. Hermione was in the Prefect's bathroom, though she shouldn't be, but the tub in here was way more accommodating than the one provided for her in her quarters. She reckoned that it was late at night anyway, so there wouldn't be any problem.

Night… it was a full moon tonight. She really must be loosing her edge, forgetting about Remus' lycanthropy, especially since she just talked with him yesterday. She knew she could have gone down to the grounds, changed into her animagus form and watched them, but she feared another reaction much like last weekend's. Memories of the past still haunted her, try as she might to remove it. She didn't want to go down, for fear of remembering the old, haggard looking Professor Lupin, the gaunt face of Sirius…

Sighing once more, she let herself relax to the sensations of the hot, soothing water.

* * *

Murmurs fill the classroom as the first bell rings. Indifferent, a 16-year old man with dark eyes and an aristocratic jaw surveys the Defence against the Dark Arts Classroom. Though he wouldn't say it out loud, not that there would be a reason too, their new, _young _professor was one of the best they've had. He refuses to participate, however, because he is a Slytherin and Slytherins don't 'participate' –no matter how interesting the lesson is.

Across the room, a gaggle of Ravenclaws were talking amongst themselves. The class was recently assigned an essay on a particular dark curse they have chosen, and the Ravenclaws were going over each other's work. Among these blue-tied students was a boy with dark short hair and light eyes. His name was Benjy.

The murmurs died down as their 'too young' professor entered. She had her hair in a high, loose bun, and her hands were playing with her wand. She crossed the room and made her way to her desk.

"Good morning." She smiled brightly before taking her seat. "Take out your essays and your quills. We'll have a lesson today." She summoned the essays and had them neatly stacked on her desk then vanished.

She stood up and crossed to the board. The sixth years watched as their professor took a deep breath and as the grin on her face slowly subdued.

"We live in dark times," she said slowly. Some of the Slytherins smirked, while most of the Ravenclaws sat straighter, anticipating a new topic for discussion. "Where, obviously, dark wizards and witches freely exercise their power. I am your defence teacher, and as such, I am tasked to help you _defend _yourselves," she enunciated the last two words clearly. "You should be aware of what's out there, of what's raging outside these safe halls."

Hermione's brown eyes surveyed and swept over the students, and said in a clear, emphasizing voice, "Voldemort."

There was a collective gasp across the room. The class sat even straighter, and the Slytherins who knew stared incredulously at the witch for saying such a taboo name.

Rolling her eyes, the witch mentioned said, "A wise man once told me that fear of a name increases the fear of the thing itself. Understood? Voldemort," flinches and cringing were observed, "is simply a name –nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm getting off topic. There is a war brewing outside, ladies and gentlemen; a fact most of you are well aware of." Her eyes looked sharply at a single direction. "But there is nothing to fear if you know a few choice spells –what to use and what to avoid."

Waving her wand, words appeared at the board… Advanced Theory: Protective and Stealth Spells, Warding Charms, Offensive Hexes, Unforgivable Curses etc. "Now, from what I've gathered from your previous teachers, you have breezed through Protective Spells and slight Offensive Spells." She let out a rather unlady-like snort, drawing the attention of the class. "I learned all these when I was fifteen!" _But maybe they didn't have Moody/ Crouch Jr. as their Professor. _

"Now we will start with Warding Charms. Could anyone tell me what they do?" She asked. "Yes, Ms. Andala?"

The curly-haired Ravenclaw stood up and primly answered, "Warding charms are used to protect and/or defend an area or region that the caster of the spell chooses to include. It may block unwanted comers, protect the place from eavesdroppers and prevent natural calamities from affecting the area. Unplotting spells and the Fidelus charm are often included in this category by defence theorists."

"Very good, five points to Ravenclaw. As she has said, Warding charms, spells etc. are used to case an area to prevent unwanted visitors, happenings or damage. The Imperturbable Charm could also be included in this category. We will cover Unplotting spells and the Fidelus charm too, as it may come in next year's NEWTS. Who could give me an example of an Unplotting spell?"

Another Ravenclaw raised his hand, this time a boy with dark hair. "Yes, Mr…?"

"Fenwick, professor." The boy replied.

"I'm sorry, but are you related to an Alice Fenwick, by any chance at all?" She mentally smacked herself for not noticing the boy earlier –for not seeing the apparent similarities… if her hunch was right.

A look of surprise settled at the boy's face. "Yes, Ma'am. She's my sister, do you know her?"

"Yes, yes…," she smiled. "But we'll get to that later. And don't call me ma'am, Miss Wood would do or professor in better days. Give an example of an Unplotting spell, Mr. Fenwick."

Remembering the question, he stammered out an answer, "Tergium."

"Correct. Three points to Ravenclaw. The Tergium, _Tergoeso_ when cast, is the most common of the Unplotting spells." A movement caught her eye near the back seats. "Excuse me, Mr. Flint, but this is not the time to have foolish wand waving to pass notes. Please, do try and listen. Five points from Slytherin."

An incredulous uni-browed Slytherin looked up to his professor. Most of the other students were wearing faces etched with disbelief too, seeing as Flint was way in the back, and he was moving almost imperceptibly. How had she noticed?

Taking the attention of the class once more, she continued where she stopped. "Tergium, as its classification states, unplots a place, making it untraceable and removes it from the map. You would not be able to floo into the place, unless they have extended a connection, and neither would you be able to apparate directly into the area unplotted. Since we have two periods today, we will be using half of it with you reading your textbooks and me staring into space. You've got one hour, turn to the chapters on Warding Charms and Offensive Hexes, page 134 through 149. Take notes. Begin."

The class read, and scratches of quills on parchment could be heard around the room.

…

"Time's up. I hope you used your time wisely, and pack up your books. It's time we tackled something that isn't found there." Hermione Wood stood up from her seat and addressed the class.

In slow, drawled syllables, she said, "The Unforgivable Curses."

The faces of the students flashed with recognition, and the eyes most of the Slytherins and some of the Ravenclaws flashed. _Ah. They've seen it… firsthand?_

With a flick of her hand, a screen appeared behind her, depicting the shady and gloomy scenery of Azkaban. It was a fortress atop an island in this picture, and there were hooded figures –dementors, floating and gliding in the far-off distance. The students who have already been to a visit in Azkaban shivered from their memories and those who haven't stared in horror for the scenes their imagination has cooked up.

"A single use of one of the Unforgivables will lead you to a one-way trip to Azkaban," she smirked, "unless you happen to be an auror, or unless Minister Bagnold is as persuadable as she looks."

"I would not demonstrate it, that much is obvious, but it would satiate my sadistic cravings to show you imagery of how it is done. Could somebody give me an Unforgivable curse?"

No hand was raised; the students were either processing the revelations or simply scared of their professor who was now looking deathly and powerful in her stance. "Perhaps you, Mr. Flint?"

The man mentioned stood up, and not wanting to be humiliated, answered, "The Cruciatus Curse."

"Excellent. The points you lost are returned. The Cruciatus Curse, _Crucio _when cast, enables the caster to inflict indescribable, excruciating pain to the spell's recipient. Though I will not cast it, what I will show you depicts its effects roughly." She took out one of the jars in near her desk, the one with the witch in a study, and muttered a spell no one could hear. She held out the transparent jar and showed it to the class. The witch instantly writhed in silent agony, its mouth moving in mute screams of pain. They shuddered from what they were seeing, because it looked too real, only minimized.

She kept the jar back after muttering a counter-spell. "As you saw, that is what you usually see in a person who has never been inflicted of that curse before. The length of duration of the spell depends on the caster, as do the strength. A woman once said that you had to mean it, but I'm not here to teach the Dark Arts. I sincerely hope that _none _of you experience it. It's a painful experience, though the most stubborn could avoid screaming and trashing around like that."

Sneering, Regulus Black said, "Have _you _ever seen it? You sound like an expert." He looked smug, as if expecting a 'no'.

Hermione looked strangely at him, as if realizing he was in this class for the first time –though there was no mistaking the angular jaw and dark obsidian eyes. "Mr. Black, you sound awfully lot like your brother… speaking out of turn."

She inwardly smirked at the thinly veiled offended look in his face, before replying, "Yes, I have seen it –experienced it actually, _first hand._"

The room became silent. The sneer in Black's face was effectively wiped off, and the class looked at the teacher in a new light. They looked at her with respect, though they saw a lot more. It was then that they saw how their professor looked like. They only noticed now the way her eyes, so deep and penetrating, held secrets and darkness of depth; they looked past the womanly curve of her body and the thinness of her waist, and saw the pale skin that hung to a body that expressed years of training and war; they realized the agility and gracefulness of her movements, her quickness of her actions. Intelligent Ravenclaws? Observant Slytherins? How did they not notice the haunted look of their professor, the calculated steps she took?

Hermione Wood gave a sad smile to her students. Her hopes of having her cool, innocent façade was broken. It was stupid of her to have said that, but he was reminding her of summers in Grimmauld where a certain, darker and decidedly older Black teased and irritated her to no end. Choosing to move on from that episode, she averted her eyes, which, strangely, have remained locked with Black's, and said, "Now, who could tell me the next Unforgivable curse?"

It was as if her voice woke them up. The class stirred once more, each individual refusing to meet the eyes of another. After a few, tense minutes, a hesitant hand came up. Elizabeth Andala's hand came up, and she stood as her professor called her name.

"The Imperius Curse."

"Five points to Ravenclaw once more. The Imperius Curse, _Imperio _when cast, puts the target into a trance, and makes him or her perform the bidding of the caster. I have honestly no idea how to show this to you, so I hope you have working imaginations.

The Imperius curse… there's like this, this voice in your head telling you what to do. Faint echoes sound through your surprisingly empty and light head, and there's this urge to follow whatever that voice says. It's as if there's a wonderful release from all the obligations and responsibilities in the world, and all you have to do is _follow._"

The wide-eyed students stared at their teacher who was looking at something, at a memory, in awe. They all assumed that she has been subjected to this also and some even allowed themselves to think that she has cast it herself, yet no one dared to question again.

"There is a way to resist it, though. Only those with the strongest will could. I am not sure how we could test it, unless I miraculously get permission from the ministry," she shook her head at this thought; she was no one here, and she certainly wasn't a high-ranking retired Auror, "but I advise you to try test it… not with the Imperius curse, idiots." She added, seeing the looks of her students.

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "Exercise your free will. Do not be afraid to stand up for what you believe in… do not conform yourself to follow ideals not your own." Her eyes swept over the Slytherins.

"Understood? Now, what is the last and final curse?"

No body raised their hand. Slightly confused at their reactions, Hermione answered the question herself, "The Killing Curse, _Avada Kedavra." _

"Here is another curse I cannot hope to demonstrate in front of you, yet at times of war it would be used. There would be casualties that cannot be helped." She looked away from them and out of the stained windows. "There will be death; we could not escape that." She began to walk nearer to the side windows. "But we could hold strong. I have seen many things, and I know that if I hadn't had others with me, I wouldn't be here right now." _They're not exactly here, are they? _"Darker times are coming," she continued quietly, then turned to face the class, "Brace yourselves." She said the last part in a soft whisper, almost strained.

She took a deep breath, and surveyed the class. So innocent … "I warn you that the Offensive spells and the Unforgivable curses aren't the darkest incantations to have ever been uttered by men." She knows this herself. "There are spells that could corrupt both caster and target, that could kill millions in one breath. Do not be afraid of these, but be wary of those who will not be afraid to use it." _Voldemort. Her._

The first bell rang, and the students packed their things with shaking hands. This has been climactic; dramatic. She called over the ringing bell and said, "Practical tomorrow –Offensive and Protective spells."

She slumped against her desk as the last student left. There was going to be a long, long day ahead.

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Alright. Reviews _are _appreciated. Thanks to those who have reviewed!


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